


Someone to Sit in Your Chair

by orphan_account



Category: Hannibal (TV)
Genre: Adventures in Wolf Trap, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Domestic Fluff, Eventual Smut, Frederick is snarky and adorable, I'll update the tags, M/M, Will's just trying to be a decent human being, a touch of angst
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2014-04-25
Updated: 2014-04-25
Packaged: 2018-01-20 18:36:04
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,265
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1521260
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>When Will gets a new house guest he never would have guessed what would happen next.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Someone to Sit in Your Chair

Thinking back to when this all began, Will realises that it had never occurred to him to phone Jack when the ostentatious Lexus slid up his drive and expelled Frederick Chilton, covered in blood, his eyes blown wide with panic. The man was trembling violently and he startled as Will’s pack came sniffing at his trouser legs, nudging his hands in the pursuit of treats. Chilton was already unsteady and Sausage and Maximillian were quite boisterous in their greetings and Will could just see further injuries occurring. He moved forward quickly, clapping his hands to dispel the swarm of wriggling bodies and moved closer to Chilton. 

He didn’t know what to say. Not only because this was Frederick Chilton – the grating, pompous ass who had tried his damned hardest to worm himself inside of Will’s head – but because Will had never really known how to react to anxiety and panic. Avoiding interaction wherever possible had left him flummoxed on how to proceed so instead of offering comforting words, he gestured awkwardly at the holdall in Chilton’s shaking hand. 

“I can take that,” He mumbled, not meeting Chilton’s wide-eyed gaze.

The psychiatrist nodded jerkily and passed the bag over to Will. “May I use your shower?” Chilton asked, straightening up and trying to regain some dignity.  
Instead what occurred to Will, as he pointed Chilton in the direction of the bathroom upstairs and listened to the running water, was how the tables had turned. He couldn’t help but smile slightly as he took the holdall into the guest bedroom, leaving it by the door as he set about putting clean sheets on the bed.  


____

Downstairs in the kitchen Will was busy making a fresh batch of coffee, surprising himself when he wondered whether to add creamer and sugar to Chilton’s, when he heard heavy, uncertain footfalls making the stairs creak. The dogs in the living room perked up as the visitor appeared but stayed on the pile of dog beds and cushions as Chilton shuffled into the kitchen, his dark hair wet and uncharacteristically messy from the shower. Will ignored the drops of water still on Chilton’s neck as he filled two mugs, chipped and stained from years of use. 

“How do you take it?” Will asked casually, swirling a sugar cube into his own coffee and taking a sip.

“Excuse me?” Chilton asked, looking confused and a little wary. 

Will raised an eyebrow and lifted his mug. “Coffee. How do you take it?” 

“Oh.” Chilton look flustered and his hand twitched, as if it was searching for the security of his cane. “I take it you don’t have any loose leaf tea, do you?”

Will shook his head. “No, just plain old coffee I’m afraid.”

He almost chuckled to see that even whilst experiencing a significant amount of stress, Chilton managed to roll his eyes. 

“I might have guessed,” he sighed, sounding rather put out as he fixed Will with a searching look. “And I take it you don’t have any alternative milks that don’t contain animal protein? Of course not,” he grumbled as Will shook his head again, “just black then. I can’t stand that creamer stuff. And two sugars. Thank you.” He added as an afterthought and with a grimace, he sank into a chair at the table, rubbing his leg in agitation. 

Dropping two sugars quickly into the black coffee and swirling the mug rather than stirring, Will deposited the mug in front of Chilton, “Enjoy.”

Chilton huffed, taking a small sip and pulling a face. “I’ve never understood the fascination with coffee. It’s awful,” he stated, lowering the mug and glancing up at Will. “I’m sorry. I’m being rude aren’t I,” he asked, sounding embarrassed and looking away as their eyes met briefly.

Shrugging, Will sat down opposite him and swallowed another burning mouthful. “Doesn’t matter. Nothing I haven’t heard from you before.”

Will watched as Chilton shrunk in his seat and considered the harshness of his words, given the circumstances. He decided to change tactic. “But it’s fine. I don’t care. You should see me when I’m scared.” He could feel Chilton freeze but he carried on. “‘Fear makes you rude, Will’, that’s what Jack said. He’s right I guess. I can be a dick when I’m scared.” He threw a quick look at Chilton then drained his drink in a few large gulps and got up to place his mug on the sink. 

Behind him, he could hear Chilton drinking his coffee in silence.  


____

After a somewhat subdued lunch of b.l.t sandwiches out on the porch, Will was cleaning up when a cough made him stop and turn around. Chilton was there, coat on, bag in hand, looking resigned and determined. Will dried his hands on the old chequered tea towel and leant against the sink, looking the other man up and down. 

“You leaving?” He asked.

“Ah, yes I…” Chilton fiddled with the bag handles as he glanced towards the door, “I’ve got three corpses bleeding all over my house and the FBI thinks I’ve put them there. I-I need to leave the country, have to catch a flight with this.” He produced a wallet filled with notes and credit cards and waved it at Will, before stuffing it back in his pocket and hunting for his keys. “And then I will be out of your hair for good. Imagine that.”

He was babbling now. Will watched as he became more frantic, cursing under his breath as he emptied his pockets onto the table. He couldn’t help but feel a bit sorry for the man – framed, alone, afraid – he could easily see himself in Chilton. They had both been fucked over by Hannibal Lecter, both wrongly accused by the FBI, and Will knew how lucky he was that he had been let go. He also remembered the way Chilton had delighted over Will when he was locked away, his arrogant, self-serving ways. He imagined how it would be to finally have Chilton ‘out of his hair’. But he found it hard to focus on that now that Chilton was scrabbling at his trouser pockets and talking to himself about whether he should head for Europe or South America. 

It was when he saw Chilton’s leg begin to shake under his weight without the cane that Will decided.

“Wait,” Chilton didn’t hear him and sighed in relief when he found the keys at last, “Wait.”

“What?” the other man snapped as he turned on Will, “Look, I’m grateful to you for the use of the shower and all the rest, but I need to be going.”

“You know that I’m going to catch the Ripper, don’t you?” Will asked.

“Of course you are and I will read about it in the papers and, when that time comes, I will reintroduce myself into society. But until that joyous occasion I must-”

“You don’t have to go you know.” Will interrupted. He gestured to the house around them, “You could stay here instead.”

“Here? With you?” Chilton asked incredulously, “You’ve got to be joking,” he scoffed, “We’d be at each other’s throats within a week, unless you called Jack and the rest on me first.”

“I wouldn’t.” Will said and Chilton stilled, sizing him up, calculating.

“No, maybe you wouldn’t,” He murmured and Will gave a small smile. 

“And besides, having you here won’t be nearly as bad as having Hannibal fucking around in my head or being locked up again,” Will reasoned, turning back around to carry on drying up.

“But the FBI –”

“Won’t even think to look for you here.,” Chilton blinked as Will laughed. “They think we can’t stand each other, remember?”  


____

They spend that evening lounging on the sofa in front of the television, cheap beers in hand and making their way through trashy horror films on Netflix. Chilton had his sleeves rolled up past the elbow, a shirt button undone and Chico snoozing on his lap. If you had told Will the day before that the next day Dr. Frederick Chilton would be happily petting one of his dogs and not minding about getting dog hair all over his trousers he would have laughed. He couldn’t help but smirk now around the rim of his beer as he took a satisfying mouthful of the alcohol, letting the flashy gore on the screen roll over him. 

“Um, you don’t mind do you?” Chilton asked.

“Hm?” Will turned to face Chilton, who already had a cigarette between his lips and a lighter halfway to the tip, “Oh. No, not at all, go ahead.”

“Thanks,” Chilton said, lighting up with a fancy flick of his wrist and breathing in deeply as he pocketed the lighter. He caught Will watching, fascinated as the smoke unfurled from his mouth in a way that was strangely Chilton-esque. “I’m sorry. Filthy habit, I know.” He gestured with the cigarette, looking sheepish. “I’m trying to quit but it has been rather a trying day as you might imagine.”

“Yeah, of course.” Will still couldn’t get over Chilton smoking for some reason, but then again it did somewhat fit the image Chilton presented of himself.

“Do you smoke?”

“No, but my dad did,” Will answered, “I’ve always been more of a drinker myself.”

“Let me guess, whiskey?” Chilton smirked when Will tipped his bottle to him, “Which brand?”

“Whatever I get my hands on really.” Will shrugged, snorting at one of the actress’ truly pathetic attempts at a scream.

“I had a bottle of 50 year old Glenfiddich back in my office. Cost me $16,000 of my hard-earned cash and now it’s probably being wasted by the imbeciles I call staff,” Chilton growled, taking a long drag on his cigarette and blowing the smoke out almost angrily. He slumped and pinched the bridge of his nose, cigarette balanced carefully between two fingers. “I think I’ll finish this and head to bed.”

“That’s fine Dr. Chilton.”

“Frederick.”

“Pardon?” Will asked, amazed that Chilton was actually giving up the honorific and offering him of all people the use of his first name.

“I don’t suppose I’ll be practicing for quite some time, so just . . . call me Frederick.”

“Sure, Frederick.” Will returned to watching the film and after a few minutes Frederick dumped the butt of the cigarette into the beer bottle, gently pushed Chico off his lap.

“Well, goodnight,” Frederick mumbled, pushing himself up and heading towards the kitchen to dispose of the empty bottle before going to the stairs.

Will nodded and subtly watched as Frederick limped up the stairs, slower without his cane. He listened to the creaking floorboards as his new house guest got ready for bed.  


____

The next morning Will rolled out of bed still half asleep. He was sleeping better since the encephalitis had been cured and once he had got Hannibal out of his head, but he just couldn’t open his eyes this morning as he stumbled into the bathroom to clean his teeth. Almost falling down the stairs he made his way into the kitchen, drawn to the coffee machine and the kick he needed. He slouched on the counter as he waited for the water to boil, heaving a sigh and rubbing a hand over his face. Just as the kettle clicked off however, there was a strange, almost strangled squeak from the doorway. 

Spinning around Will saw Chilton, whose eyes were practically glued to Will’s legs. Bare legs. Will groaned internally. He’d forgotten to pull on his pyjama pants. Usually he didn’t wear them, being the only one in the house, save for the dogs. Going through the motions of his morning routine he must have stepped over their puddle on the floor. So now here he was, in a t shirt and pair of boxer briefs that were once black and but now were a dirty, faded grey. And this pair even had a hole in the thigh. Fantastic. 

“Jesus, I’m sorry Frederick I usually don’t wear –”

“No, no it’s fine, no need to apologise, I’ll just.” Frederick waved a hand over his shoulder and spun around his heel to leave. 

He ended up walking into the door frame with a solid thwack.

“Oh fuck, are you okay?” Will leapt forward and began examining Frederick’s forehead. There wasn’t a bump but the skin was already turning pink and Will could tell it was going to leave one hell of a bruise.

“I-I’m fine,” he stammered, pulling away and heading for the living room. “I think I’ll just go and, you know, sit down.”

“Can I get you something for that? Ice? Pills?” Will called after him but Frederick was already gone. 

Will peered into the living room. Frederick had his head in his hands and seemed to be groaning in was that Spanish? He obviously wanted space so Will left him to it, wandering back into the kitchen to get the coffee. As he poured he recalled the blush on Chilton’s face, and how quickly he had backed away. _He’s probably just embarrassed_ , Will thought, adding two sugars to Frederick’s coffee, _anyone would be_. But then he remembered how he had stared at his legs, how wide his eyes had gone and how his jaw had actually dropped a bit – or was that just Will’s imagination? Was that really normal behaviour? There was only one way to find out Will decided, finishing his coffee and bringing Frederick his. 

As he watched Frederick sip dejectedly from his mug, he made up his mind to put tea on his next shopping list.

**Author's Note:**

> The original prompt for this fic came from savechilton.tumblr.com :3
> 
> This is has been beta'd by the wonderful catsandpsychopaths on tumblr, check her out, she is awesome!
> 
> This is also the first time I've written for the Hannibal fandom, let alone these two dorks, so forgive me if it's awful! 
> 
> Title of the fic comes from the lyrics of "Being Alive" sung by Raúl Esparza himself for the musical 'Company'.
> 
> Find me on tumblr at happily-obsessing-about-chilton.tumblr.com 
> 
> And thanks for reading, I hope you enjoyed it! Don't hesitate to leave a comment or review xxx


End file.
